


Distractions

by owlmoose



Category: Final Fantasy XII
Genre: F/M, Final Fantasy Kiss Battle, Kissing, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-19
Updated: 2013-02-19
Packaged: 2017-11-29 21:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/691452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlmoose/pseuds/owlmoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes, Balthier needs a push from his partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distractions

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 Final Fantasy Kiss Battle. The prompt was "Balthier/Ashe, "It isn't for your benefit that I do this," Fran said."

Balthier slammed the panel shut and pushed back from it, rubbing at his temples. "Damn," he muttered. "Damn, damn, damn!"

Fran swiveled in her cockpit seat and raised a curious brow. "The relay is still down?"

"Not only that, I seem to have munged up some of the other connections in my attempt to repair it." Balthier kicked the heavy metal casing, then hopped back on the other foot, pain shooting up his leg. "Ow!" He glared at the panel with rather more ferocity than it deserved. "Fool ship, must you torment me so?"

The Strahl made no reply; more surprisingly, neither did Fran. Balthier cast an eye in her direction and saw that she wore an expression midway between exasperation and amusement. "What?"

She merely shook her head and looked away, focusing on the dusky skies instead. Balthier plopped into the closest seat and rubbed his aching foot, then cursed again as the pain sharpened at his touch. He pulled off his boot and sock to check the offending toe -- yes, it was already swelling, with a purple tinge to the skin. He touched the swollen spot with care and muttered the words of a minor healing spell, then stood, ensuring it could bear his weight. Satisfied, he removed the rest of his footwear and stalked back to the cabin in search of something sturdier.

Halfway there, the hallway shifted, throwing Balthier hard to his right; flailing, he grasped at the handrail to stay upright. He twisted his head around, thinking to shout his displeasure at Fran, but he forbore, instead taking a moment to regain his footing before returning to the cockpit. He took the co-pilot's seat and regarded her: calm, still facing forward. "Changed course, did you?"

"I did," she replied.

He glanced out the front, a sinking in the pit of his stomach as the walls of Rabanastre appeared before them. "I told you, I do not wish to--"

"So you have claimed. Repeatedly." Fran tapped a few buttons on the console, acknowledging the aerodrome's receipt of her flight pattern request. "But it is not for your benefit that I do this."

"Oh no?" Balthier arched a brow at her. "Then whose, pray tell?"

Fran pulled the Strahl up alongside the roof of the palace and pushed the lever that would open the gangway. Only then did she shift to face him. "My own." She lifted her hand and pointed a taloned finger out the door. "Now go."

"But--"

She pointed again, with more force. _"Go."_

Balthier held up his hands in surrender, then made his way to the exit, taking careful assessment of the distance before he jumped; only when he landed on the roof and the tiles scraped the soles of his feet did he recall that he had neglected to put his boots back on. Gritting his teeth, he scrambled along the rooftop to maintain balance, only stopping when he saw a balcony below: her balcony. As quietly as he could, he swung himself over the edge of the roof and landed in a crouch. Then he turned to glare at the Strahl, already disappearing into the distance. "How did she get permission for this approach?" he muttered. Then he sighed. No avoiding this any longer. He squared his shoulders and went to the balcony doors. It would, he thought, be trivial to break the lock, but impolite; instead he raised his hand and rapped his knuckles against the glass.

Long moments passed, and he contemplated the lock again, but before he reached the point of smashing it, or attempting to pick it without tools, the white curtains parted to reveal Ashe, a gauzy blue dressing gown tossed over her shoulders, her expression betraying less surprise than he would have expected. She pulled the door open and let him inside, and they stood in silence; she looked him up and down, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

"You're here," she said. "And barefoot."

He glanced down at his pale toes, the lush red carpeting soft against his scraped soles. "My journey here was somewhat... unplanned."

Ashe arched a brow at him. "I do recall a certain lack of response to my invitations."

"That had been my intention." He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. "I fear that formal occasions -- state dinners, coronations, royal weddings -- are no longer my forte."

"Mmm." She set back a step. "Why, then, did you change your mind?"

"Fran changed it for me." Balthier leaned toward the half-open doorway and looked up at the empty night sky. "I... may have been a bit difficult to deal with, the past few days." To say the least, he realized. "Perhaps I sought a distraction. And failed." 

"So instead you come here, to distract me from tomorrow's festivities." Ashe chuckled and stepped up to him, placing her hands around his neck. "As distractions go, it is not ineffective."

"Good," he started to stay, but the word was lost when Ashe pressed her mouth to his, stealing it away with a lingering kiss; his eyes fluttered closed and his hands curved around her back, pulling her into an embrace. She wrapped herself around him in return, warm through her thin dressing gown. 

"Distracting, indeed," she murmured as she pulled away, her forehead bumping up against his, brushing noses. "And welcome. Will you stay?"

Balthier chuckled. "I have no shoes to carry me away, so I don't see as I have much choice."

"Thank Fran for stealing them, the next time you see her." And Ashe laced her fingers through his, tugging him away from the open window and into her chambers, kicking off her slippers as they went.


End file.
